Murmured Goodbyes
by Tinkernat
Summary: The blond woman raised her head to look at her daughter, withheld tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes. Wordlessly her daughter dropped to her knees beside her and wrapped both arms around her mother. "He'd be proud of you, you know," she muttered between sobs, "Of both of you." AU Death-fic. Hints of Vlarin
1. Erin

Murmured Goodbyes

Summary: The blond woman raised her head to look at her daughter, withheld tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes. Wordlessly her daughter dropped to her knees beside her and wrapped both arms around her mother. She rocked her gently, making soothing noises as the blond woman stifled sobs in her hands, another tear falling onto the black stone next to the other."He'd be proud of you, you know," she muttered between sobs, "Of both of you."

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Young Dracula.

A/N: mămică = mum in Romanian according to Google translate (which means it's probably completely wrong)

I began writing this somewhere between series 3 and 4, then didn't know where to go with it and forgot about it completely. Hence Erin is a half-fang, is quite content with this fact and _isn't_ trying to eat everything in sight.

Thanks to the reviews/favourites for my last one-shot :D I really appreciate it :) Thank you again to _way2cool4uxx _for the beta.

* * *

The trees stood ward in a silent circle, not even a wind rustled the red leaves. The grass was still, stiff and untouched by bird or animal. Even the air seemed frozen, in an inexplicable state of stasis, gravitating around the centre of the clearing.

So quiet was the petrified dell, the sound of a cape disturbing a small twig between two of the trees was as unexpected as a gunshot.

The woman stayed in the shadows of the trees for a moment longer, gripping the edges of her stark white cloak as she teetered on booted feet, indecision warring within her before she gathered herself and took a step forward. Then another, and another until she reached the centre of glade. There she stopped and brushed her cowl from her head, a golden circlet atop her blond hair. Her eyes and face were diplomatically blank.

With quivering hands she brought a small, gilt container from within the depths of her cloak and placed it at the ground at her feet. Taking a slow step back she visibly shook as she raised a hand so it was facedown directly above the container. She turned her hand slowly so it faced upwards. The ground writhed as she did so, the container vanishing from sight as it was swallowed up by the earth. The woman trembled once more.

Her head whipped to the side as two more figures emerged from the opening she had previously come from. One was a woman with ebony black hair gathered atop her head, wearing a cloak to match the other woman's. She smiled bleakly, first at the blond woman, and then at the man accompanying her, before she glanced down at the large black slab she and her companion carried and her smile faltered. The man sent a helpless glance towards the blond woman. She attempted a smile as she looked at him but found it futile.

_So alike…_her mind whispered.

She moved back as the other two people walked forward. With great care they set the stone on the spot where the container had disappeared into the ground. They paused then moved to flank the other woman.

She bent and traced the words engraved on the stone, which were set with the finest ruby, with utmost care. Again she shook and bent her head in an odd kind of reverence.

A single drop of iridescent water fell onto the stone.

"Mum?" the dark-haired woman asked, her eyes flicking momentarily to the man before back to the other woman.

The blond woman raised her head to look at her daughter, withheld tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes. Wordlessly her daughter dropped to her knees beside her and wrapped both arms around her mother. She rocked her gently, making soothing noises as the blond woman stifled sobs in her hands, another tear falling onto the black stone next to the other.

"He'd be proud of you, you know," she muttered between sobs, "Of both of you."

The man's jaw clenched as he blinked furiously. After a moment's indecision, he bent down next to the two women and rested his forehead against the blonde lady's shoulder, staring at the black slab in front of them.

"We know," the woman's daughter mumbled, her lips trembling.

They crouched there in silence for an unmeasured amount of time, swaying to an unheard rhythm as the woman in the centre wept quietly. Gradually, her sobs subsided into an eerie breathless silence as she stared blankly at the black stone.

"Mămică," the man lifted his head, "Should we…?"

The blonde woman nodded slowly and tilted her head slightly to one side, "Ingrid?"

Another woman, garbed similarly to the other two with long black hear, appeared in the clearing in a black blur. She shot a glance at the black stone then focussed on the blonde woman.

"Are you sure you're ready Erin?" Ingrid murmured, reluctant to raise her voice.

The blonde woman, Erin, nodded once more and swept over to Ingrid to stand slightly in front of her, then turned to face her children. As one they dropped to their knees. Erin placed a hand one both of their brows.

She raised her chin and said in a surprisingly steady voice, "We are gathered here as witness. Do you profess this witness?"

"We do," came the collective voice of the men and women gathered in the shadows of the trees, just outside the range of sight.

Erin's eyes dropped to her children, "Do you swear by what you say during this witness?"

"I do," they said in unison.

Ingrid stepped around them so she stood at their backs and placed her hands on their right shoulders.

Erin looked at her, "Are you too, bound by your word?"

"I am."

Erin faced her daughter once more, "Do you, Ştefania Dracula, first-born of Vladimir Dracula, Grand High Vampire and Chosen One, accept the responsibilities of your father's title?"

"I do."

Erin turned to her son, "Do you, Nicu Dracula, son of Vladimir Dracula, pledge your support in her as ruler of our kind?"

"I do."

"Do you, Ingrid Dracula, sister and Chief Advisor of the Chosen One, promise alliance to your new ruler?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to support her in her claim to the throne?"

"I do."

Erin lifted her head to address all assembled, shoulders drooping as a weight had been lifted off them, "My people, by the stone of this grave, it is done. Exult in honour of the heir to your throne."

Those in the shadows began a haunting chant, a mixture of a funeral song and a song of respect for the one marked as their new leader. Erin seemed indifferent as she once again strode forwards to the edge of the stone.

She tipped back her head and stared up at the glass domed ceiling, the pinnacle of design from vampire architects. The idea was that the meadow was bathed in sunlight during the day, as the man now buried beneath the stone slab had always wanted to be during his unlife. The trees, however, were a gift from the wolves, offered in tribute to the passing of the one with whom they held their treaty. The canopies were thick enough that a vampire would be able to stand under them and not be harmed by sunlight.

_He would be proud, _Erin realised, _Proud that the races had worked together._

She crouched, tracing the ruby words once more, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

"Goodbye Vlad."

* * *

_Here lies Vladimir Dracula_

_Grand High Vampire_

_Dominus Imperator Electus_

_Husband and Father_

_Who was killed in protection of his people and family_

_Death Hides, It Does Not Divide_


	2. Ştefania

A/N: Thanks to _Vlarin-CC's no.1 fan girl xxx_, _way2cool4uXX _and 'Guest' for the reviews on the last chapter. Also, an extra thanks to _way2cool4uXX_ for the beta (once again). When I was writing this, I figured since Erin was happy being a vampire I could bring back Bertrand. I'm not sure if I've got his character right though, so I apologise.

* * *

The burial chamber of the Chosen One was remarkable for several reasons. For one, despite its official title, it was more of a large building than a chamber. It was made up of several rooms containing anything and everything pertaining to him; swords, copies of portraits, his favourite books. It was more a museum in his memory than merely a place to bury him.

Another odd thing was the circular chamber in the middle. There were doors to it from every room in the building, each intricately decorated to signify what was held in that particular room. The centre of the circular room was filled by foliage and dark trees. In the centre was a glade, a circle of light highlighting the edge of it, the design of the roof not allowing the light to reach the rest of the room.

Bertrand de Fortunesa, former mentor of the Chosen One, stood as a silent sentry at the edge of the room. His face was devoid of any emotion, as had been common for the last few decades in his position as Military Strategist. He shifted in his place for the first time in his vigil. Re-adjusting the buttons on his jacket, he moved forward into the trees, deliberately using the pace of a breather. He picked a path expertly through the trees with the air of a man who had trodden that particular path many times before. He stopped once another figure, slumped and staring at the tombstone despondently, came into view.

"What d'you want Bertrand?"

"I want to know what's wrong Ştefania."

The newly appointed Grand High Vampire half turned and stared at him pointedly, "What do you _think _is wrong?"

Bertrand let out a sigh, a bad habit picked up from a former pupil. He walked forward again so he was level with her and stared into the glade. Ştefania stared blatantly at him for a while, then slumped and faced the same direction.

"You always were hard to read."

Bertrand allowed himself a small, sad smile, "Your father said much the same thing to me once."

Ştefania blinked a few times, her lips trembling. She twined her fingers together restlessly, twiddling with a ring with the Dracula crest on it. Abruptly she slumped.

"It's always 'your father did this', 'your father wanted that'! People don't seem to realise _I'm not my father!_" she looked helplessly at Bertrand, looking no more than a frightened little girl in the costume of a noblewoman.

She turned and restlessly paced the space between the trees, hands coming to rest over her eyes. Bertrand remained silent and still, having learnt a long time ago it was best to wait out a Dracula's outbursts.

She spun on her heel, "People keep telling me what he would have done and what he wanted, and I just don't know anymore. I can't do this! I can't do what he did! I'm _nothing _like him! You could choose any other vampire on the council and they'd do a better job than me! I. Just. _Can't!"_

Her legs could not hold her up any more and she collapsed in a heap on the ground. Wordlessly, Bertrand crouched down next to her, placing the pads of his fingers against her shoulder. She sobbed silently, gaze fixed on the stone again.

"Why did he have to leave?" she whispered, "Why did he have to make me do this?"

"He left his throne to you because he knew he could trust you," Bertrand broke his self-imposed silence in a murmur, "Any other vampire on the council would take the power and undo all his work."

Ştefania considered his words quietly, restlessly playing with her ring again.

"But I can't do this. Not like he did."

Bertrand let loose another pointless sigh, "No one expects you to do it like he did, to become another him. He knew you were strong and you could cope with it."

They remained in silence for a while, Ştefania's occasional sobs the only sound hanging between them. Bertrand remained crouched, poised as if in readiness for a fight. He watched with some boredom as the sun faded from the clearing and the glow of twilight permeated the room.

"You have a council meeting soon, my lady," he said quietly at last.

Ştefania, whose sobs had gradually lessened, wiped her face slowly, then stood up with a practised grace most vampires would be proud of. Bertrand stayed crouched, eyes fixed on the same spot, as she hesitated at the edge of the clearing. Sighing, she turned away and straightened her posture.

"I expect to see you there."

Bertrand stood and bowed to his leader, recognising this as her subtle dismissal. He paused for a moment, a pause that could almost be classed as a hesitation, before he turned away and sped back through the trees.

Ştefania spared one last glance at the tomb.

"I miss you daddy."


End file.
